


Sushi and Bad Eyesight

by orphan_account



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, Sexy Zone
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 02:37:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1370794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why Fuma and Kento should not cook together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sushi and Bad Eyesight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ailette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailette/gifts).



> Hey everyone!  
> This was inspired by my weekend with Ailette and our creative cooking experience XD Hope you like it!

Kento’s POV

“I did not get a birthday party from you guys even though I turned twenty!” I complained, scowling as Fuma spread the tons of ingredients he had brought over the kitchen table.

“Sorry, I forgot that _you_ are the biggest baby of the band” Fuma rolled his eyes without looking up at me. “Besides, we were busy throughout both of our birthdays, and you know how happy Mari will be if we surprise him!”

“Okay, okay” I sighed, frowning as I examined the huge rice sack Fuma had brought, looking like he was planning to feed an entire set of Juniors additionally to our band mates. “But why do we have to do it in my house? I mean…”

“You don’t have siblings and your parents are barely ever home” Fuma shrugged, pursing his lips. “If we do it in my house, my brother would sneak in all the time to steal the food and my sister would kidnap you to play, so I would have to do everything by myself!”

I nodded reluctantly, figuring that he actually had a point. Fuma waited pointedly, and when I did not return anything, he prodded: “Rice cooker, Kento, or do I have to search the kitchen myself?!”

“Um…” I blinked, looking around helplessly, trying to remember where my mother usually put all the utensils. I opened all the wrong cupboards in my search, and Fuma was laughing at me by the time I finally presented him with the cooking device. “ _You_ wanted to cook with me!” I reminded him with a glare. “You know very well that I suck at everything that’s not hamburgers or cup noodles!”

“You say that like you could actually do more than fry some meat” Fuma shot back, finally taking the rice cooker out of my hand. “You can still help me, I can give you tasks that not even you can mess up!”

“So much confidence when I never saw you do more than put some conbini food into the microwave” I murmured.

“I cook for my siblings all the time!” Fuma said indignantly. “I know how to put kids to silence, okay?”

That made me laugh, and I let Fuma push me around until we had all things we would need for cooking gathered on the table.

Fuma had chosen to make sushi, for some reason, claiming to have watched his mother prepare it a thousand times and knowing just what to do, and though I was still skeptical, I kept quiet and tried to not cut my fingers off as I peeled the cucumber. 

It all went fairly well at first, until Fuma complained about the mess I had made while cutting the avocado, and squealed girlishly when I started to poke his cheeks with my dirty fingers in revenge, resulting in a tiny food fight that was ended abruptly when I got a bit of wasabi into my eyes and we had to interrupt the whole thing for a few minutes until I could see again. 

“I am really sorry” Fuma said ruefully, for the 13th time as I pressed a tissue to my tearing eye. “Though it was kind of your fault for mashing the avocado until it looked like wasabi. I confused it.”

“Even if it had been the avocado, no one asked you to smear it all over my face” I chuckled, and Fuma huffed as his fingers closed around my wrist, gently pulling my hand with the tissue away from my burning eye.

“Let me see” he murmured, pressing close to be able to examine my eye, and I froze at the sudden proximity. Fuma was blurry through the tears that did not stop even after I had removed the contact lenses and cleaned the eye, but that made his breath on my face and his scent in my nose only more noticeable, as if my other senses were sharpened by my lack of proper sight. 

Fuma seemed to notice then how close he was as well and stopped moving for a moment before abruptly pulling away. 

“You’ll be fine” he said quickly, and I thought his cheeks seemed a little red, but when I had put on my glasses, he was concentrating on cutting the salmon, ignoring me. 

In the end we still managed to cut all the ingredients without any major injuries, and though all of it looked a little unprofessional, Fuma kept telling me that as long as it tasted well, the appearance didn’t matter. 

Fuma prepared the rice according to a note his mother had scribbled down for him, and I had to admit that it tasted good when he asked me to try it, smirking at the way he looked proud as if I had handed him culinary stars. 

The problematic part came with the rolling of the sushi, though. I was still laughing at Fuma when his role came out way too big, the ingredients falling out at the side, but as he challenged me to try it himself, the nori broke and the rice was leaking out _everywhere_ , making Fuma tease me so much that I started throwing rice at him again (or _tried_ , because most of the rice actually stuck to my fingers instead of letting me throw it, but when I got some into Fuma’s hair, I was pretty smug about his whining). 

We got the knack of it after about half an hour, though our tries still looked like pathetic excuses of what was supposed to be sushi, but at least the rice and all the ingredients stayed inside this time. Or well, stayed inside until I tried and failed to cut them into edible pieces, from which Fuma promptly banned me after I had managed to destroy two of the roles, doing all of it himself.

The end result was at least one plate of passable sushi (which every professional cook would cringe at, and I was pretty sure would never suffice for all of us), a battlefield of a kitchen, and both of us looking ridiculous with rice and avocado sticking everywhere. 

Of course Shori chose that moment to arrive, and when I opened the door for him he laughed at me so hard that I closed it right into his face again. Fuma let him in through the back entrance, though, and after he had inspected our sushi sceptically, his smile faded. 

“Are you sure this is safe to eat?” he enquired, making Fuma freeze in his movement of picking rice from my skin to pinch a bit.

“Of course it is!” Fuma glared. “We are the best cooks, okay?!”

“Yeah, I can see, you were completely absorbed in your work” he said drily, and Fuma took some rice from our failed tries and threw it at Shori, who dodged with a loud squeal. 

I was still a little thankful when Shori announced that he had brought emergency karaage from the conbini, but Fuma kept pouting and told him he was not allowed to eat any of our awesome sushi. 

Fuma and I managed to get more or less clean until the doorbell rang again, announcing Sou, who had apparently gotten the task to lure Marius to my house. 

It was supposed to have been a surprise party, but Sou could obviously not hold his tongue and Marius was already bouncing in excitement, asking where his presents were, and though Fuma grumbled at it, none of us did really mind. 

I kept the party carefully out of the still unsightly kitchen, but Shori told them all kind of horror stories about our cooking anyways, making the kids keep to the karaage and letting Shori eat almost all of it by himself, despite Fuma trying to snatch it out of his reach and force Sou and an obviously terrified Marius to try it. 

“It is quite good, you know, despite how it looks!” he said indignantly. “I mean, Nakajima sucks, and he got the stuff all over the place, but-”

“Really, Fuma-kun, not in front of the kids” Shori smirked, and I stopped Fuma just in time before he could reach for the wasabi to throw it into Shori’s face. 

Thankfully the mood loosened up as soon as we started giving out the presents, and Mari forgot to be scared of Fuma or the food in order to jump at everything he was allowed to unpack. He seemed childishly happy about all the gifts, though Shori still insisted that he liked his best, making me shove more food into his mouth to shut him up.

When the kids turned to leave only an hour later because Mari had promised to go for dinner with his parents, all of Shori’s karaage were finished while there was still some of the sushi left, making Fuma grumble about it.

“Next time we should just order in” I smirked, patting his shoulder. “It will be less dangerous and less stressful for all of us.”

Fuma just pursed his lips and shoved another piece of sushi at me, and I chuckled as I opened my mouth to let him feed it to me, suppressing a comment about how Fuma kept letting his guard down more and more when we were alone together lately. 

I was not sure what it was that had been building up between us in the last few months, but I was not going to destroy it by enquiring about it and making things awkward. 

Fuma stretched tiredly as I swallowed, watching my face.

“So, shall I help you clean up? I kind of believe your Mum won’t let me come over ever again if she finds her kitchen like this.”

“I think so, yes” I chuckled, searching for a clean dish towel to throw it at him. 

Cleaning the kitchen took almost as long as the cooking itself, since we kept getting distracted by each other, and by the time we were done, both of us were soaked with soapy water (not my fault Fuma decided to provoke me while I had the spray in hand). 

“Can’t get _anything_ done when you are in the room” Fuma sighed as he pulled his T-Shirt over his head, and I was so distracted that splashed water into my own face accidentally with the spray. 

This had Fuma in a laughing fit while I put the spray blindly back to where it belonged, blinking against the water in my eyes as I took off the glasses and dried my face with the towel. I squinted at Fuma, but without glasses I could barely make him out, and Fuma sighed as he came closer, snatching my glasses away to clean them for me. 

Up close I could see him better, still without a shirt and disheveled and wet as he was, and when he looked up to catch me staring at him, I could still not avert my eyes. 

There was a sudden silence between us, before Fuma almost whispered, his voice suddenly small and quiet: “We should… change clothes or something. We will catch a cold.”

I nodded, still not moving as I murmured: “I can borrow you something to get home in.”

“Yes” Fuma responded, and it seemed to take a huge effort for him to tear his eyes away from mine and give me back my now dry glasses. 

I could still not see through them because Fuma had used a messy towel instead of a proper glass cleaner, but I knew the way around our house well enough without, and when I stumbled on the way up the stairs, it had nothing to do with my eyesight but more with my limbs not properly cooperating with a half-naked Fuma this close. I had just glanced once at him, but it had been enough for me to miss a step and lose my balance. Fuma reaching for my arm to catch me had technically been a nice idea, but it kept me from grasping the rail to steady myself.

I did not quite know how we managed to tumble down together after this, but thankfully, we had been only a few steps up and I did not really hurt myself, though Fuma groaned in pain from underneath me, and when he squeezed his arms around my waist, I realized that he had caught me. 

“Are you okay?” I murmured, trying to scramble myself up into a sitting position, but we were too entangled in each other to allow me to move, making me flop down onto his bare chest again with a huff.

“Only trouble with you” Fuma complained, but he sounded breathless, and I could hear his heart racing where my ear was pressed against his chest. His fingers drew tiny calming circles into the small of my back, making me shiver at the feeling.

“ _You_ wanted to cook with me” I reminded him again, making Fuma laugh, the laughter vibrating his torso and shaking me with it. 

Finally, I managed to find some leverage with my elbows and raised myself up to look into his face. 

Fuma’s hair was damp and clinging to his face, and his skin was slightly flushed as his eyes met mine, and my brain seemed to stop working at the sight. Or that was the only way I could explain why I leaned down to catch his lips with mine. It was not like I had never thought about kissing Fuma, but never had I been able to bring up the courage for it.

Fuma’s lips were soft and pliant, melting against the soft brushes of mine, and his fingers dug into my back slightly in response, as if to encourage me. 

We kissed slowly, almost shily, and it filled me with a new kind of warmness, one that I had already felt every now and then when Fuma had used my first name or when he had mentioned that I was important to him in interviews in the past, only stronger, overwhelmingly so. 

Our kiss was only interrupted when I tried to shift above him, unconsciously trying to get even closer, losing my balance. My nose bumped Fuma’s and he made a choked noise, opening his eyes to look at me. 

“Sorry” I whispered, not sure if I was apologizing for my repeated slip of clumsiness or the kiss itself anymore, a sudden nervousness crashing down on me, because my brain had definitely called back to duty again and _what the heck was I doing?!_

Fuma seemed to read my thoughts though, because he shook his head quickly, holding me firmly in place when I tried to get up once more. 

I gasped when his lips were back on mine, more firmly this time, as if determined to kiss my doubts away, and knowing the way Fuma preferred actions over words this was probably exactly what he was trying to do. My fingers found his damp strands and fisted them, trying to reciprocate as Fuma’s tongue flicked my lips, demanding entrance. I parted them with a quiet moan, allowing him to explore my mouth freely. 

I did not expect it when Fuma rolled us around, throwing him on top, his body pressing mine into the hard wooden floor. I did not complain, though, and he cupped my cheek and deepened the kiss even more, making my head spin with every brush of his tongue against mine. 

When he finally pulled away again, I was dizzy in a way that had nothing to do with the lack of glasses (which I had no idea where I had dropped them during our fall, but right now I could not bring myself to worry about them), breathless and disoriented. 

I blinked at Fuma when he sat up, pulling me up by my wrist as he got to his feet. 

“Don’t fall again” he advised, but his voice was deep and rough, a tone I had not heard from him before, and it made me shiver involuntarily.

Surprisingly, we made it up the stairs this time, though my knees felt kind of wobbly, and when the door of my room fell closed behind us, I was back in Fuma’s embrace immediately. 

Fuma’s skin was warm under my fingers despite the shivers that ran through him, but I did not think it had anything to do with the wetness or the lack of clothes, so I just returned his kiss, letting my touch wander up and down his bare back. 

His hands seemed to be shaking a little when he fisted my shirt, trying to raise it clumsily, and we had to break apart for a moment so he would not strangle me hile pulling it over my head. He wasted no time, immediately attacking the zipper of my jeans as I was dropping the shirt to the floor, each of his movements clumsy from impatience, and it made me smile to myself, somehow managing to find him adorable even in a moment like this. 

Fuma froze when he caught a look at my face, his hands stopping in the middle of pushing the fabric down my hips, looking confused. 

“What?” he murmured defensively, and I chuckled, hooking my fingers in his pants to pull him flush against me.

“I like you” I admitted, catching his eyes, enjoying the way Fuma blushed again, making me want to keep saying all the sweet things to see more of it. “I-”

“Yes” Fuma interrupted me hastily, pulling me into another kiss. I was distracted for long enough to let him pull my pants down the rest of the way, but not enough to forget about the lack of answer still nagging at the back of my mind. 

“Fuma” I whispered as he nibbled on my throat, taking a few steps backwards and pulling me towards the bed with him. “I-”

“I like you, too” Fuma murmured breathlessly against my skin, still not looking up at me. “Gosh, you never shut up if I don’t spell everything out to you, do you?!”

I wanted to return something, but all that came out was incoherent half words because my brain was still kind of shot due to Fuma’s confession, and he used my in-eloquence to push me onto the bed. 

He held in to quickly get rid of his own pants, and my eyes were hanging on each bit of skin that was revealed in the process. I only moved when Fuma climbed into the bed with me, nudging me until we were under the covers, chest against chest. 

We held in for a moment, catching each other’s eyes, and Fuma cupped the back of my neck as he kissed me again, softer this time but no less intense. 

Fuma’s body felt amazing against mine, warm and perfect, and my hands began to explore again without me consciously telling them to, as if I could just not help myself now that I had him this close. I had had a weakness for Fuma’s body for ages, ever since it became manly and defined, but I had never allowed myself to fantasize about touching it, afraid of giving myself away once my feelings became too deep and difficult. But now that I could, now that I felt Fuma shiver under my touch, I wanted to drown in the feeling, wanted to keep running my palms over every inch of soft skin, catching all the soft noises Fuma did not seem to be able to suppress in our kiss. 

Fuma seemed to have other ideas, though, and I gasped when he palmed my erection through my underwear, biting my lower lip softly. My movement ceased and I desperately clung to his shoulder as he his fingers scattered teasing touches over the fabric, making me groan. 

“Stop me” Fuma hissed, his brown orbs even darker than usual, making my skin tingle just by looking at him.

“I don’t want to” I whispered, and Fuma moaned softly before connecting our lips again, squeezing down on me and effectively emptying my lungs of all air left. 

It almost progressed too easily after that, Fuma's hand slipping into my underwear, urging me to do the same. His erection felt hot and intense between my fingers, and he bucked into my grip, speeding up the rhythm of his own strokes. We fueled each other on like that, higher and higher, our kiss turning messier with each second that passed. 

"Kento" Fuma whispered against my lips, thumbing the tip of my erection, and I pulled away to muffle my groans in his shoulder as I came. 

Fuma caught me, his free arm going around my waist to hug me close, kissing my temple as I came down from my high. I was still catching my breath when I realized that Fuma was still trembling slightly in arousal, his whole body tensed, and I sneaked my fingers back to his shaft, slightly smearing the precum on the tip as I picked up a quick pace. Fuma whimpered, holding onto me tightly, and I leaned up to lick the shell of his ear, making him shiver as I whispered his name. 

I felt Fuma’s orgasm almost as intense as my own, fascinated by seeing him lose it because of my touch. I pulled back a bit to take in his face as he tried to regain his breathing, his eyes closed tightly and his head slightly leaning into my caress as I started tracing his cheekbone softly. 

My fingers kept wandering, gently skimming the skin of his face and stroking back his now sweaty hair, giggling when they caught on a stray rice corn sticking to his hair. 

“We should really not cook together” I mused, and Fuma snorted, his arms tightening around me.

“I like how this turned out” he stated offhandedly, and I laughed as I rested my head against his.

“But I lost my glasses somewhere along the way” I reminded him, and when Fuma pressed a kiss to my temple, I could feel him smile against my skin.

“Then I will just have to keep close enough for you to see me” he chuckled before pressing his lips to mine again, stealing all further answers from my tongue. 


End file.
